Sherlock Holmes the Famous Librarian
by accio-feels
Summary: Follow up on 'The Amazing Sherlock Holmes' with the life and development of the national treasure. Sorry that I'm so terrible at summaries. Rated T because I'm scared of the rating system.
1. Chapter 1

When Sherlock Holmes was a child, he was entranced by books. He couldn't put them down. He was lost in the world. Whenever he was asked what he'd like to do when he grew up, he always said 'librarian' as though it was the proudest thing he would ever decide.

His brother, Mycroft, always had a knack for ruining things, in Sherlock's opinion. For example, Mycroft tried to lay down his stupid rules of 'caring isn't an advantage, Sherlock' and tried to force him to fill his "mind palace" with nonsense such as how much blood someone can lose before they will die. Sherlock countered with "in the books, caring is very important, so there!" and "when I need to know how much blood is in people for when I read a book, I'll be sure to ask you, Mycroft."

It was no surprise to anyone when Sherlock was able to rattle off all the books he'd ever read, along with a short review, the general plot and the author of each book. He was pretty sure, at the age of 8, that he could write it all down and hand that in to a library as his resume. Mycroft had snickered when Sherlock had sent in his "resume" to the local library, only for him to get a letter back informing him that all the books on his list would be added to the library straight away because they sounded great. Sherlock had huffed and refused to leave his bedroom for a week.

At the age of 19, Sherlock turned to his local library and stated his quest to read every single book they had. When he was 25, Sherlock had read the entire library and had a mind palace full of books and that was when he decided to be a library assistant, a job his knowledge would be very good for.

While Sherlock was interviewed for his dream job, Mycroft sat in his office in the heart of London, preparing for his interview with the Prime Minister. The eldest Holmes brother had made his way rather high up the ladder and was perched at a fantastic location, able to look down at over 90% of the British citizens. He had pursued his dream job and was only climbing up the ladder with each year.

At 30 years old, Sherlock had begun to master the ability to read people. Mycroft was more than happy to help his brother with the hope Sherlock would change career paths. Nonetheless, the two Holmes worked on reading people, allowing Sherlock to identify the favourite genre and book of a person.  
Mycroft had hoped that with his newfound knowledge, Sherlock might change professions and invest in a more intellectual job. Sherlock, however, was excited to come into work the next day and start helping people.

"Excuse me," a woman asked one day. "I was just wondering where the non-fiction was."

Sherlock smiled at her and pointed down the library. "Right down the end. The stuff on ghosts are all the way at the back, though. I'd recommend 113.9 BEC," he told her. "You'll find a lot of the information you're after."

And with that, Sherlock's fame began to take off. People began to ask him where specific books were and soon, he was a spectacle. People came from all over London to get books recommended and for him to guess their favourite genres and books.

For five years, people came to Sherlock Holmes to continue the spectacle. He never ceased to amaze and became one of the hottest attractions for tourists. But in all the years as a librarian, only one woman had ever stood out to him. He had seen her a few times walking past the library and his eyes always followed her, even as he talked to one of his many excited clients. Sherlock couldn't help but wish that she'd walk into the library, just once, and he could introduce himself to her. But alas, she had been cynical when it came to Sherlock Holmes, and she never looked over at the library and she never caught his eye. She never realised that he knew she existed. His fortune changed on a rainy day, five years, seven months, three weeks and six days after he first deduced in the library. The woman who he craved to meet walked into the library.

It was a quiet evening, about five o'clock. There were few people remaining, and few who hadn't already had a turn at Sherlock Holmes. It was yet another rainy, London day. The woman ducked for cover and ran straight into the entrance of the library. She took off her coat and cringed as she folded it over her arm.

Sherlock was sitting at the front desk and looked up at the new arrival. He paled. She was right there and he could walk straight over with no problem. This was his chance, but would he take it? He was getting nervous and he wasn't sure he could do it. He stood up and gulped. He could do this, he told himself, taking one step forward. Sherlock grabbed one of the books from the desk and walked over to the woman, planting a smile on his face. He stood behind her and bit his lip. He had to say something, anything!

"I'd say you're a fan of sci-fi and romance," he said.

The woman jumped and spun around. "Erm, I only read romance when there's another genre involved," she replied, looking him up and down.

He moved the book to get one hand free and held it out to her. "Sherlock Holmes."

She froze. Oh God. "M-Molly Hooper," she stumbled out and shook his hand, a blush over her face.

"Hmm," Sherlock muttered, his smile turning to a frown. "That was a rather negative reaction to my name..."

Molly blushed further. She didn't believe in him. She didn't believe that Sherlock could deduce people. "Just words on the street clouding my thoughts," she replied.

Unsure of how to respond, he settled for a small, forced smile that looked more like a smirk. "Would you like to take a seat with me?" he asked while looking around the library. There were few people in the library but Sherlock hoped there was a free place. "I think there's a table over there."

Molly looked up at Sherlock and looked across the library. "I suppose so. I didn't really have a plan when entering; just 'keep dry'," she replied with a small smile.

"I'll escort you to my favourite table," he said before offering his hand to her. She was hesitant in taking it, but decided nothing bad would happen if she did. "It sits right between the crime and mystery section, a very quiet place indeed. I'm almost always in the library," he told Molly as they walked.

"I'm rarely in libraries, nowadays. I buy stuff online or read it online. I don't have a lot of time in between working and sleeping," she told him, a blush rising again.

"I suppose it must be tiring working with the dead, though. I'm not too sure how close Bart's is, but I suppose you took the tube and popped up close by. You were on your way home when the rain started heavily," Sherlock said before motioning to a table.

He sat down and Molly gave him an odd look. "How do you know where I work and what I do?"

"Your ID is on top of your purse. It's easy to see," he told her, waving his hand as if it was nothing.

Molly sank down in her chair and crossed her legs. "I have to ask, since it's eating me inside, how do you know about people? Like, their favourite genre and book," she clarified, feeling somewhat embarrassed that she had asked him.

"I can read people. Where someone looks when they enter the library, where they're feet are, the way they hold themselves and speak, the way they dress and everything they do. To me, it screams out 'read me, read me' as though I have to understand everything. But I don't just get books from them. I can read their life stories from the way they look, from a string on their shirt, from the fluff left on a sleeve. Just the condition of your skirt tells me many things, Doctor Hooper." Sherlock cocked his head at her and his smile faded.

He didn't know what she thought of him. She had changed her opinion on him, though. He thought that she no longer felt uncomfortable around him. Oh how he'd love to go on a date with her, or something.

"Well," she started a few moments after his explanation. "This certainly has been an interesting conversation, but I best getting home. I think it's starting to clear up a bit."

Sherlock felt his heart drop. She didn't like him and she certainly wasn't impressed. "Oh. Alright then." He frowned and his mind raced. He had to see her again, just emhad /emto. No-one had enthralled him as much as she had. "Erm, would you be interested in getting coffee with me, some time?" he asked, feeling his cheeks heat up.

"Yeah, sure. I'll give you my number." She pulled a pad of paper out of her purse and scrawled her number before handing it to him. "I'll hear from you soon, then?"

"Oh, definitely," he replied with a wink as she stood up. He felt so relieved, even if the conversation had only been a few minutes long.

She smiled and looked over at the doors. "It was great to meet you, Sherlock."

"And you, Molly. I'll call you," he said before standing up and nodding at her.

Sherlock watched as Molly walked out of the library, a huge smile splitting his face. He ran into the break room where his fellow librarian, John Watson, was trying to chat up the new girl.

"Sorry to interrupt," he called as he entered the room. "But I've got some _brilliant_news!"

John gave an apologetic smile at the woman and turned to Sherlock. "What? We get some new books?" he joked.

Sherlock shook his head, his smile growing. "Molly Hooper," he told John who gave him a blank stare. "The woman! **_THE_** woman! She walked in about ten minutes ago. Her name's Molly Hooper and she gave me her number," he beamed.

"Wait, _the_ woman?! I thought she didn't really exist! I thought you were making her up so I stopped trying to set you up,' John said.

"She _does_ exist and I have her number," Sherlock boasted. "But I'm going to need your help. I don't really understand relationships."

John smiled. "I'm happy for you, Sherlock. I'll help you make sure it goes well."

The elated man brought John into a hug, even if the latter wasn't really into hugging Sherlock.

"I can't believe my luck, John! It started raining once she got of the tube and she came into the library to hide from the rain." Sherlock raised his arms into the air and tilted his head back. "Ah! It's Christmas! I can die a happy man!"

John laughed and nodded. "Alright, Sherlock. We're not off until eight, so you go and be nice to people, maybe read the new book. It needs to be covered, too. If you could do that, that'd be great."

* * *

Sherlock paced around Baker Street, John sitting in his armchair, reading one of the new books.

"What do I say?" Sherlock asked as he began to sweat.

John sighed. "I dunno. 'Hi Molly, it's Sherlock from the library. Would you like to have lunch tomorrow?'" he suggested.

"But what if she says no?" Sherlock asked as he sat down in his armchair and sighed. "Books didn't prepare me for real life."

"If she says no, that's ok. You know that rejection is part of being human. You'll meet someone else or whatever. But don't focus on if she says no. She'll probably say yes, she gave you her number, afterall. Stop thinking of the negatives, Sherlock," John said and turned the page in his book.

"But-"

John put the book down and sighed. "Sherlock, I have been rejected by so many women. I've been in relationships and one of us has ended it. Alright? I can tell you that even if you meet someone who might be the one, you'll get over them if they reject you. You move on, you live your life, alright? Don't fret. Just send her a text and see where it goes from then," he reassured his friend.

Sherlock frowned at John and sat down in his armchair. "I s'pose." He twiddled his thumbs for a bit and sighed. "Can you text her for me?"

"No, that's ridiculous," John said with a laugh. "Just tell her it's you, then ask her out for… whatever."

"Fine," Sherlock muttered and sent a text to Molly.

* * *

**A/N:** _Hey darling reader!_

_I'm thinking about continuing this because who doesn't love adorable librarian Sherlock? So, tell me what you think of it :)_

_My most sincere apologies for the original version of this. It appeared FFN uploaded this in HTML text which totally sucks. Nonetheless, I fixed it up so everyone can read it without those pesky "p", "/p", "/em" etc._

_A HUGE thank you to the beautiful yarnandahalfspinner, Rosie McGuilicuty, SammyKatz,and a fabulous Guest who told me that the original file needed fixing. I really appreciate it :)_

_Have a fabby dabby day!_

_X_


	2. Chapter 2

Molly Hooper was fifteen minutes late. Sherlock was sitting in a café in London, waiting for Molly to come for coffee. It was supposed to be their first date but she hadn't arrived yet. Sherlock began to scratch his arm with nerves. Where was she?

**_Hi, Molly. Just wondering where you are :) –SH._**

He opened his book to try and distract himself. Sherlock always had a book with him, just in case he ever had free time.

**_John, I think I'm being stood up –SH._**

Sherlock didn't know what to do. He had texted Molly and hadn't heard anything so he texted John hoping for some advice. He almost leaped to his feet when his phone trilled.

**_Have you sent her a text? Called her? I'm sure there's a perfectly logical reason as to why she isn't there. –John._**

**_For Christ sake, John, standing me up is perfectly logical reason as to why she isn't here. Maybe you should think a little more about the fact that I knew this would happen. –SH._**

Sherlock put his phone on mute and downed the rest of his coffee. He didn't feel like hanging around anymore and he was pretty sure Molly wasn't going to turn up. With a sigh, he grabbed his book, left some money on the table and walked out of the café.

He was devastated that Molly had stood him up, of course. For the past 18 or so hours, Sherlock had been so excited for the opportunity to go on a date with Molly Hooper, the adorable woman who had walked past the library so many times but never once looked his way.

It seemed that first impressions were everything. Molly Hooper hadn't seemed all that impressed when she first met him, and here he was, alone on what was supposed to be a date with the only woman who had ever sparked an interest in Sherlock Holmes.

He walked out of the café and turned a few corners before arriving in a large park. Taking refuge under a tree, Sherlock took out his phone and opened his book.

**_Call her, Sherlock. She's probably in traffic or something. –John._**

Sherlock frowned as he realised that was his only text. It had been thirty minutes since they were supposed to meet and it appeared Molly Hooper was not interested in a date at all, she was just stringing him along. He imagined being stood up hurt more than being rejected. It was a logical assumption.

* * *

Molly had just finished her autopsy and looked at the clock hanging on the morgue wall. She smiled as she realised she had twenty minutes before her lunch break and she'd meet Sherlock at the café a few stations away. She was going to take the Tube and meet him for coffee. It was one of the first lunch dates in a while that she'd been excited for.

As the time ticked closer, another body was brought in, accompanied by the police.

"Morning, Doctor Hooper," Greg Lestrade said as he led the procession. "Murder. We need to perform an autopsy right away."

Molly bit her lip. She had less than fifteen minutes before lunch…but she had to help out.

"Alright, Detective Inspector. But I have to go straight after. I've got a lunch date," she told him.

With a nod from Lestrade, Molly got stuck into her newest client.

* * *

She was ten minutes late. Molly reached into her bag as she ran out of Bart's. It was only as she arrived at the Underground that she realised her phone was in her lab coat. With a groan, she decided she'd have to suck it up.

As she got onto the platform, everyone started to walk away. A man must've seen the horror on her face.

"There's been a delay of an hour," he told her as he walked past.

Molly froze. An hour? Man, she was so late!

With a sigh, Molly followed everyone else up to the surface, just in time to see a black car pull up and a young woman step out.

"Molly Hooper?" the woman asked her.

Molly frowned. "Yes."

"I need you to come with me."

She shook her head. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

The lady sighed and pulled out some identification. "I'm with MI6. I'm going to require you get in the car with me."

"I haven't done anything wrong," Molly argued, glued to the spot.

"I know," the woman said, "but I've been told to get you. You need to come with me, right now."

Against her better judgement, Molly decided she had to get in the car. She was in no position to run as there was nowhere she could go without the MI6 agent catching up.

Once Molly was in the car with her seatbelt done up, the car took off, speeding through London. They pulled up outside a large, isolated building. The woman slid out of the car and waited for Molly to follow.

The pathologist climbed out of the car and watched in horror as the young woman got back in the car and drove off, leaving her alone.

"Molly Hooper," a voice called from the doorway of the large building. She spun around to see a man in a three piece suit standing before her with an umbrella in hand. "Perhaps you and I should talk. Please, follow me."

He turned around and walked into the building, leaving Molly on the footpath. As her head caught up, she walked in to find it a deserted warehouse.

"What do you want from me?" she asked.

The man turned around and gave her a small smile. "I just want to talk, Doctor Hooper. I want to talk about Sherlock Holmes."

She looked down at her watch to see she was now over half an hour late. "What about him?"

"I'm aware you are meant to meet him, but I think we need to talk before you get involved with Sherlock."

"Well, I refuse to talk to anyone about business that is not their own," Molly replied while crossing her arms.

The man frowned. "You don't understand. This _is _my business. Sherlock Holmes is my younger brother and I don't want him to get hurt, especially by you."

"I completely understand." Molly frowned and looked the man up and down.

"I am aware. I'm warning you now, Miss Hooper, Sherlock is a delicate person who can't handle rejection and loss. It was a tragedy when he finished reading the Harry Potter series." Mr Holmes shook his head. "It was dark days in the Holmes household, I can tell you that."

Molly narrowed her eyes at the man. "I'll do my best to not hurt Sherlock, although that may be hard, seeing as I am almost twenty minutes late for a date because of work, the Tube delay, and you."

"Actually," Mr Holmes said, "you'll find that I caused the Tube delay and I requested the body be sent to the morgue just as you were planning on leaving. We needed to have a chat before you met with my brother."

"Are you kidding me? Oh my goodness, this is ridiculous." Molly ran her fingers through her hair and groaned. "Sherlock's gonna think I've stood him up." She looked back up at Sherlock's brother and narrowed her eyes again. "Are you doing this on purpose? Do you not like me? Do you think I'm not good enough for your brother? Why would you do this?"

Mr Holmes stood with a stony face and left a small pause before replying. "On the contrary, Doctor Hooper. You are the first woman Sherlock has taken an interest in and I'm only hoping that nothing bad happens. Ergo, we had to talk about Sherlock."

"Well," Molly started, "I think we've done enough talking. We've established I don't want to hurt Sherlock and yet, I have indirectly caused him pain and suffering because you decided it best that we have a talk today of all days."

Molly turned around and stormed out of the building, leaving a rather smug Mr Holmes behind her. It was only when she got onto the street that she realised she had no idea where she was and had no way of getting home. As she took a step to the left, preparing to walk for goodness knows how long, the black car pulled up beside her and the back door opened. She got into the car to see the woman still texting away.

"Where to?" she asked Molly.

The pathologist looked down at her watch and sighed. She was half an hour late for the date. He would've left by now. She normally left twenty minutes after the date time if the other person didn't contact her.

"Back to Bart's, please," Molly told the woman and she leaned back in her chair.

Molly had no idea of how she was going to apologise to Sherlock and score another date.

* * *

When his lunch break was over, a heartbroken Sherlock returned to the library and finished cataloguing some books before he had to deal with a few tourists who wanted to hear what he had to say about them. By the end of the day, Sherlock didn't even want to face John at home. He knew his colleague and flat share would complain about how Sherlock let Molly slip through his fingers.

Despite what John thought, it was rather difficult for Sherlock to interact with people, especially chasing them up. How on earth was he supposed to call Molly and ask where she was? He had enough trouble calling the doctor to make an appointment.

For the first time in months, Sherlock stepped out of the library to see a black car waiting for him. A young woman exited the vehicle and approached him.

"Evening, Mr Holmes," she said, eyes locked on her BlackBerry.

"Good evening to you too, Anthea. Is it Anthea or something new today?" he asked.

Anthea just gave him a small smile. "Yes." She looked back down at her phone and her fingers flew over the keys again. "You've been requested."

"I guessed that much," he muttered back and walked towards the car.

He slid in first and she followed suit.

* * *

**A/N: **_hey there, darling reader!_

_So, my apologise for not updating sooner. I really don't have any excuses. Also, my apologies for the kafuffle with the first chapter. It has been resolved, even though I probably mucked about more than necessary._

_Unfortunately for me, school is about to start again, so I'll either write a lot more or much less. We'll see._

_What have I been working on? Er, mainly _Ermergerd-Lock. _I don't think anything else, really, which is bad because I've got various stories that need to be update. I'm sorry that I'm terrible. Not really. I rarely say 'sorry' because it's usually an irrelevant word that sounds so erch._

_Right, with that, I'm off. I'm still tired and I have some errands to run today so I'm going to nap and then write, probably. We'll see._

_Blerch! I'm rambling. Apologies._

_I hope you enjoyed the chapter :)_

_X_


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock sat in Mycroft office, a small frown on both their faces. In front of them was a tea tray. Mycroft had prepared his and Sherlock stared down at his cup.

"How have you been, brother mine?" Mycroft asked, picking up his tea cup.

There was a small pause before Sherlock replied. "I was stood up today."

"Pardon?"

"You heard me, Mycroft," Sherlock grumbled. "I asked a girl on a date and she said yes, only to not turn up."

Mycroft frowned at his brother. "A girl?"

"Yes. Molly Hooper. Pathologist at Bart's. She came by the library yesterday and we agreed to get coffee. But she didn't turn up and she didn't text me."

"Did you ever think," Mycroft started while leaning back in his chair, "that perhaps she wanted to go but was held up elsewhere?"

Sherlock gave Mycroft a pointed look. "Don't be daft. We were going to meet at midday and she didn't turn up within twenty five minutes and she didn't text me back."

There was silence as the boys sat, staring at their hands.

"Are you going to chase her up?" Mycroft asked, stirring his tea.

Sherlock sighed. "No, probably not. I don't think she's interested and I don't want to annoy her."

"Ever the gentleman," the eldest Holmes brother muttered as he lifted his teacup to his lips.

"I'm so disappointed though, Myc. I mean, I was absolutely entranced by her and she stood me up."

Mycroft shrugged. "If it wasn't to be…" he trailed off.

With a sigh, Sherlock stood up. "I'm going home. I'm tired."

There was no chance for Mycroft to argue with his brother because Sherlock took straight off.

When Sherlock arrived home, his mobile started to ring.

"Sherlock Holmes," he grumbled into the phone.

"Sherlock, it's Molly," the person on the other end said. "Listen, I'm really sorry about lunch. I got held up at work and then there was a delay at-"

The librarian sighed. "Molly, I don't really want to listen to… well, excuses. If you weren't interested, all you had to do was say so."

"No! No, er, you don't understand. I really am interested in you and getting to know you. I was really looking forward to lunch, but then the police turned up to look at a body, and when I managed to leave, there was a problem with transport, and then a lady in a black car turned up and I-"

"Wait," Sherlock cut off, "a woman in a black car? Was she on her BlackBerry?"

"Y-yes. And I was driven to what I think was the middle of nowhere. And then this man turned up and he said-"

"He told you he was my brother? Or did he threaten you?"

Molly bit her lip. "Yeah, he said he was your brother and I think there may have been a threat in there, too."

"Bloody git," Sherlock said with a sigh. "Yes, he's my brother, unfortunately. Look, how about dinner tomorrow night? Come by the library after work, I finish a bit early tomorrow, and then we can go out. Just text or call if you're going to be late, though."

"Yeah, of course," Molly giggled. "But I really am sorry about today. On top of that, my phone only just charged enough to make this call. I would've called earlier, I promise."

"No, no, it's fine, really. So, I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yes. I'll be there or text you if something happens."

Sherlock beamed. "Great! Great, I'll see you there, then."

"Of course. Good night, Sherlock."

"Good night, Molly. Until then." She hung up first and Sherlock beamed. "Oh, it's Christmas!"

John walked in, hearing Sherlock jumping about the flat. "What's so great? Last time I saw you, you were on the verge of tears."

"It's Molly, John. Mycroft did his usual thing and kept her away. She called me to tell me she was still interested and we're going to dinner tomorrow after work. We should have Chinese to celebrate," Sherlock beamed to the curious John.

"Told you there'd be some logical reason behind it," John said with a smile before tugging on his coat and walking with Sherlock to the local Chinese shop.

Molly walked out of Bart's the next day to see a black car sitting by the curb. The woman from the day before leaned against it, fingers flying over her BlackBerry's keys.

"Good evening, Molly," the woman said with a smile, her eyes still glued on her phone.

The pathologist gave a small smile. "Evening," she muttered before continuing on her way.

She was getting to the library no matter what and she was going to have dinner with Sherlock, even if she had to walk all the way there.

As she turned a corner, the black car moved, parking in front of her. Molly sighed and took out her phone.

**_There appears to be a black car following me. May or may not be late. Sorry –Molly x_**

Molly watched the car as she walked. A few steps away from it, it pulled away from the curb and took off down the street. She smiled and continued her walk.

**_Leave Molly alone, Mycroft, or I'll tell mummy you're bullying my girlfriend –SH._**

**_For goodness sake. You know perfectly well she'll harass you until you bring home your girlfriend. I'll get off with a slap to the wrist while she harasses you for weeks. –MH._**

**_That's irrelevant. You're still harassing innocent people. Keep your cars away from Molly. They make her feel uncomfortable and she's texting me. I have no problems with texting back, except for the fact I'm supposed to be working and I have several books to cover. –SH._**

**_Fine. –MH._**

Sherlock smirked as his brother gave in. However, he was suspicious of how fast he had let Sherlock win the argument. Mycroft was renowned for getting his way, no matter what. For him to give in to Sherlock's demand of leaving her alone was preposterous. Nonetheless, Mycroft complied.

But Mycroft was true to his word. The rest of Molly's trip to the library was quiet and lacked the conspicuous car driving past and stopping at creepy places.


	4. Chapter 4

The doors of the library opened and Sherlock's eyes snapped up to see who had entered. To his dismay, it was not the pathologist from Bart's, but was a man with a heart condition. He turned back to the woman in front of him and forced a smile.

"I recommend _Flowers for Algernon. _I also recommend keeping a box of tissues beside you," he said before scrawling the title and authors name onto a slip of paper. "That man over there," he continued, pointing at John at the front desk, "he'll point you over to the right place."

The woman smiled up at him before walking over to John. As she walked away, Sherlock looked up at the door once more before sighing and walking towards the crime fiction. It was ten minutes after he was supposed to get off and Molly hadn't arrived yet. If she stood him up again, Mycroft or not, he was going to have to give up on Molly.

A few minutes of wandering through the familiar crime fiction brought him to twiddling his thumbs until Molly arrived. When he turned around to walk back to the front of the library, a figure blocked his way, a smile on their face.

"I believe, Mr Holmes," the person, Molly, said, "that you're meant to be on a date right about now."

Sherlock beamed down at Molly and felt a sigh of relief leaving his lips. "I'm glad to see you, Molly," he said before putting a hand on her back and guiding her back to the foyer of the library. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up again."

"In my defence," she started, "your brother decided to drag me across London to tell me not to hurt you. And this time, I did have a car follow me for a while. It does make it harder for some to make it on time for dates when someone's brother is stalking them."

"Alright, alright," Sherlock smiled. "Now, I know this great Italian restaurant by Northumberland Street. The owner is a great guy and a family friend. I think you'll really enjoy the lasagne."

He waved at John before they left the library.

* * *

The couple sat down towards the back of the restaurant with a menu each. Sherlock's mind drew a blank. It was one thing to _read _about dates and another to be on one. He'd _never _been on a date and he had no idea what to say. The go to question, he supposed, was to ask what the person did for a living and milk that for all it's worth. At the moment, however, it didn't appear as though that would be a very good starting question. They knew the name of each other and where the other worked. There was no point asking stupid, irrelevant questions.

"So, Molly," he started before pausing, trying to conjure a thought. "What's your favourite book?"

He supressed a cringe at his childish question. What's your favourite book?! Had Sherlock lost his mind?! Besides, they both knew that he knew everyone's favourite book. It was obviously

"_1984 _by George Orwell," Molly replied, finishing Sherlock's internal monologue. "What's yours?"

"_Angels and Demons _by Dan Brown," he told her, forcing a small smile. "I'm not the biggest fan of the movie, but I did enjoy it nonetheless."

Molly smiled and nodded. "I haven't read the book yet. I loved the movie, though. I can just imagine the book would be so much better."

There was a silence as Sherlock thought of what to say next. What on earth does one say on a date? Boy oh boy, he should've left dating to John and he should've just gone to bed with a good book.

"Good evening, Sherlock and bambolina," a large man said with a huge smile.

"Evening, Angelo. Molly, this is Angelo, the owner of the restaurant. Angelo, this is Molly, the pathologist at Bart's," Sherlock introduced.

_'Damn, did I do that right?' _he wondered. _'God, I hate introducing people. That's it. I'm never introducing people again unless my life depends on it.'_

With his mind made up, he smiled over at Molly who found herself in an embrace of Angelo.

"It's great to meet Sherlock's new girlfriend. Mycroft was by and he said you are a wonderful girl and he told me to keep an eye out for you. Now, I was starting to think that Sherlock and John were going to finally come out to everyone, but it seems I am mistaken!"

"Sorely mistaken," Sherlock sighed. After taking their order, Angelo walked away. "Bloody Mycroft, sticking his fat nose in place it ought not to be stuck," he grumbled.

"So, do you get that often, then?" Molly asked with a teasing smile. "You and John being together?"

Sherlock nodded and rolled his eyes. "Yes. Too often. There's nothing wrong with two semi-broke librarians sharing a flat together. You can imagine that there are books covering the flat."

The pathologist nodded and a small smile settled on her face. "It must be wonderful. A life surrounded by books."

"I like to think," Sherlock started, "that people surround themselves with what they love. Or try to, anyway."

Molly laughed. "I surround myself with dead people on a daily basis and cut into them for a living. What does that say about me, Mr I-read-people-like-a-book Holmes?" she teased.

The librarian leaned forward and narrowed his eyes as though examining her. He paused for a moment and tilted his head to the side. "It says 'Molly Hooper's a serial killer and Sherlock's her next victim'," he said with a smirk. "Is that what you do, Doctor Hooper? Use your charm and good looks to lure people to their deaths?"

As she laughed, Sherlock decided to pull back on the morbid conversation. Even though he loved making murder jokes, it was the least appropriate thing to be talking about in a restaurant.

Molly leaned forward, their faces inches away. "You got me," she breathed out.

"The lasagne for the lady and the pasta for the arrogant sod," Angelo all but sung as he approached the table.

The duo resumed their original seating positions and let Angelo put the food in front of them.

* * *

**A/N: **_oh hey there, darling reader!_

_Finally! A date where they both turn up! Huzzuh!_

_My apologies for not updating regularly. I have no excuse. But, it's currently 2pm on a Monday, so I'll knuckle down and write _something _whether it be this or _Fresh Perspective _or maybe even some _Ermergerd-Lock. _We can't be sure. I have been working on some non-fanfiction stuff and would like to continue writing that... so this may be a very irregularly updated story. Again, my apologies._

_Thank you so much for all the kind reviews! I really appreciate them! Keep 'em up!_

_So, that's all for now. I'll try and get something else updated either today or tomorrow... so fingers crossed!_

_X_


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/N: _**_Here comes trouble!_

_It's official! I'm a bad person! Wow. I was re-reading the last chapter and realised that the last author note was _'I'll update tomorrow or later today' _or something like that. I dunno. I don't pay much attention to me._

_This is a long authors note and you can skip it if you'd like but there is important info._

_Now, since we last spoke, I've actually been on more than one date and I think I may have this. I think I can maybe write something other than my usual angst! Guys! It's a Christmas miracle! I got dating, but not kissing. Still makes me cringe, because I'm a five year old at heart._

_Shout out to Pepe Le Pew (the nickname of my boyfriend) for helping me improve my writing by asking me out! You go Pep!_

_On another positive note, I've handed in my novella (you may or may not remember me talking about that oh so long ago) so I don't have to focus on that anymore. Also, I have Christmas holidays in about six weeks, and I'll be writing a lot of angsty stuff if I don't get accepted into University :) If I do, you can imagine the fluff I shall right. ;)_

_I've put my uncompleted stories on hold for a bit so anyone who stumbles across knows that I do intend on completing it and I haven't completely abandoned._

_Seeing as a lot of my readers don't just read one of my stories, I wanted to get this out: I'm going to edit 'Fresh Perspective' a bit. I'm not sure I'm happy with the way its gone and I'm going to fix it up and polish it a little more. But I'll do it in one big chunk and then in the next posted chapter say that they're all fixed. As for 'Ermergerd-Lock', I haven't worked on it very much and I need to change one minor characters name, so I'll go back and fix that and post some more. I think I've got about two chapters ready to go, I just have to post them. As for this, I'm generally pretty happy, but I might end it soon because I'm not good at relationships and I write angst and humour… so… yeah._

_Oh, on another note, if you wanted to read my novella (I had one or two people ask about it), drop me a PM and we'll work something out :)_

_Alright. Now, without further ado, I present the next chapter of this fantastic story, and hope that you all like it. I'll be very embarrassed if you don't._

* * *

"Enjoy!" Angelo said with a wink before retreating.

Sherlock sighed as he looked down at his food. "I can't believe Angelo," he muttered to himself. "I'm never coming back here again."

A small laugh from across the table forced Sherlock to look up. Molly was smiling at him, twiddling her fork with her thumb and pointer finger.

"If his food is as good as it looks, _I'd _sit through his hilarity," she teased.

Sherlock felt his face heat up and he picked up his fork as well. "Hilarity? Please. This is the same man who laughed through _The Exorcist. _His sense of humour is warped."

With a laugh, Molly crossed her legs and stabbed her lasagne

* * *

Sherlock and Molly stood outside the restaurant, Sherlock trying to hail a cab. He looked over at her as the fourth cab drove by. Her chocolate brown eyes shone up at him.

"Shall I try?" she asked with a small smirk.

With a small sigh of resignation, Sherlock shrugged. Molly stepped forward onto the kerb and raised her hand. The closest cab pulled over beside her and Molly raised an eyebrow, a large smile on her face.

"Don't you look foolish?" she laughed.

Sherlock opened the door and smiled at her.

"I had a great time tonight. Thank you," he said.

She bit her lip. "No, thank _you _for taking me out to such a beautiful place!"

His eyes flickered to her lips before settling on her eyes.

"Thank you for agreeing to dinner with me," he said and she shrugged.

"I'm never going to turn down free food," Molly teased.

They stood in silence for a moment before she took a few steps towards him and wrapped her arms around him.

"But seriously, thank you," she whispered into his ear, standing on her tip toes.

She let go of him and got in the car. Sherlock stood at the door and smiled.

"Thank you for coming out tonight."

Molly beamed up at Sherlock. "My pleasure."

He closed the door and a few seconds later, it pulled away from the curb, leaving Sherlock alone. As he went to hail another cab, or at least tried, a sleek black car pulled up beside him and the back passenger door opened. With a sigh, he got in and closed the door behind him.

A woman in a black dress smiled at her BlackBerry as she continued to text.

"Evening, Sherlock," she said, staring at her phone, a smirk settling on her face. "Your brother wanted to know how the date went."

Sherlock crossed his arms and rolled his eyes and the woman. "Tell him to keep his fat nose away from Molly and I. He has no business there."

The lady bit her lip to stifle a laugh. "Seriously, Sherlock, how did it go?"

"Well. No thanks to Mycroft, though. Tell him, Anthea, that if he's going to meddle in my own affairs, he has to do it in person. You both know perfectly well that I'd rather see a smirking Mycroft for a few minutes than sit in the car with you as the driver drives in circles around my flat for half an hour." Sherlock frowned and leaned towards Anthea. "Is this on purpose? Does he do this specifically to annoy me? Is that a thing?"

Anthea laughed. "Oh, Mr Holmes, your mind is so in sync with your brother."

With a huff, Sherlock looked out the window as Anthea texted her boss, telling him about what Sherlock had said and making her own deductions of him. It wasn't hard to know what Sherlock was feeling. The small smile that slipped onto his lips or the way his eyes looked so distant in the reflection were dead giveaways to Anthea who smirked as she texted.

* * *

Sherlock waltzed into 221B Baker Street and over to John. The other librarian was sitting in his armchair, reading a book, when Sherlock came over and ruffled his hair.

"For God's sake, Sherlock, you know I hate that." John put away his book and looked up at the lanky man. "How was the date?"

"Oh, John, it was _wonderful! _She's so beautiful, and funny, and kind, and wonderful, and she's so nice! And she has a cat, Toby, who she adores, and she loves reading, and she works at Saint Barts in the morgue and she's so perfect!" he beamed.

John frowned and crossed his arms. "That's not even close to grammatically correct. How many 'ands' can you put in a sentence, Sherlock?"

Ignoring his friend, Sherlock fell onto the couch and smiled, staring at the celling. "I think I'm in love with her!"

The short librarian stood up. "What? Love? Sherlock, think rationally for a second. You've kn-"

"Rational? Please. You sound like my brother. I doubt she's even as remotely fascinated with me as I am with her, but- ugh! I just can't keep her off my mind!"

"You're sounding like a teenaged girl."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, his smile fading. "You're sounding more and more like my brother. Do you two see each other often? You must. You're so alike." He stood up and stalked to his room. He hesitated at the door and turned around. "I wanted to share the good news in hope that you'd be happy for me, but instead you turn on me. Some friend you are, John," Sherlock called before closing the door behind him.

Moving to the kitchen, John took out his phone and typed in a number. He held the phone to his ear and waited.

"Hi. He just got home. It went well, almost too well. He says he loves her." He paused as the other person spoke. "I know. I'll keep an eye on him and watch out for her." There was another pause and John ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't want him to think she doesn't like him, I just think he needs to cool down and think logically." He nodded as the person spoke. "Alright. I'll bring him around this weekend."

* * *

**A/N:**

_How'd I do?_


End file.
